


the flavour of dreams

by rhys_lila (eulyhne_syios)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreams vs. Reality, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, M/M, basically a crossover with every movie the actors have ever done, idk where this is going, inspired by the interviews the actors had after filming the movie, rated M for possible smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eulyhne_syios/pseuds/rhys_lila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Fischer doesn't often remember his dreams these days. Neither does Eames. When summer finally rolls around Robert takes a few weeks off work and decides to invite Eames over to his cousin's cottage so they can finally spend some time alone. Long story short, they start remembering their dreams again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. sea salt

**Author's Note:**

> So this originally started off as a joke, just something I wrote when I was bored. But basically, Robert and Eames have dreams where they're in the roles of movies that their actors have been in. Anyways, I hope this is entertaining because it was a lot of fun to write :)

chapter one: sea salt

  _“I know what the colour of love is. It's blue.”_

_It had always been like this. No words had to be spoken. The understanding was always there._

_Maybe the colour of love was blue. Maybe it wasn't. It didn't matter._

_The sun made the colour of his eyes look pale, green like the sea. His face was serene, trusting. Like he knew what she was about to do. And maybe he did._

_And he was okay with it._

_He had promised her they would be the king and queen of a great and beautiful palace. Maybe the palace wasn't on the land. Maybe it was in the sky._

_Slowly, she covered his face with a grey cloth, then a deep blue one. Love. She must be doing this out of love. It was blue. It had to be._

_She placed her hands on the cloth and pressed down and did her best not to cry._

_He had a mere trembling of the hands. And then he died._

 

* * *

 When Robert Fischer woke up he was crying. The silent tears fell from his eyes and the morning light was too bright, disorienting his senses. Grunting in discomfort, he rolled over, facing a still sleeping Eames.

Robert wasn't sure if it was because he got distracted by the way the sunlight looked on Eames’s face or if it was because the room, small as it was, seemed so comfortable in the morning, but he had suddenly forgot why he was crying.

Still, the tears didn't stop falling. He wiped his eyes and sniffed.

Eames wrinkled his nose and blinked a few times before slowly settling his eyes on a very sad and vulnerable looking Robert. His eyes widened in concerned and he reached out to hold a part of Robert’s face in his gentle fingers. His thumb softly grazed the corner of his trembling lips.

Robert closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

Eames murmured a couple of soft, indecipherable sounds and Robert made a surprised noise when he was kissed. It was a lazy, sort of wonky kiss because it was the morning and neither of them were completely awake but it was a kiss nevertheless and it felt good, good enough that Robert stopped crying. He made a contented sound as he kissed back.

They stayed close for a moment, letting time suspend itself in the air of their breaths before they quietly returned to their former distances. Eames looked at him thoughtfully.

“Bad dream, love?” He inquired with a sympathetic chuckle.

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes closed, trying again to remember.  
  
“No… Well, not exactly. It was more complicated than that…”

“Oh, isn't it always,” Eames grinned wryly, stretching his arms back and snorting when his knuckles knocked the headboard and shook Robert fully awake.

“Jeez, darling, you're making me think you might piss your pants if I fart too loudly… Are you sure you're alright?”

Robert frowned and rolled so he was facing away from him.

“I'm trying to remember what I was dreaming about, you know I'm not good at this kind of thing…Just give me a minute or two, okay and then I'll be back to normal,”

Eames made a grunt of approval. Robert closed his eyes and tried to remember again.

A colour. It was like a bed of rippling silk, tangible almost, the colour dilating and then fading out, an eye, the iris, the colour of the iris, blue, blue, it had to be blue. Blue is the colour of… what was it again? An l, it was on the tip of his tongue, what was that word…

“L-love… Love! Yes, that's it. Love. Blue is the colour of love…”

He turned to face a heavily puzzled but amused Eames.

“Seriously? You were balling your eyes out from a measly little sentence about the colour of love…?”

“A-Are you making fun of me-?” Robert shot back incredulously.

“Robert, love, I just don't understand, I mean, we watched _Titanic_ yesterday and the week before that we watched _Clannad: Afterstory_ and the week before that we watched-

“-Okay, okay, I get it, it sounds pathetic, now would you just leave me alone, you don't get it, Eames. It was a really sad movie…”

“What was a really sad movie?”

Robert shook his head furiously.

“I'm not telling you the title, you're either just going to laugh at me or think I'm going insane, or “bonkers”, whatever you call it…”

“Darling, we’re all a little bonkers, it's an occupational hazard of being human -just tell me the name of the ruddy movie…”

In the tiniest voice ever, Robert muttered

“Disco Pigs,”

Silence.

“d-disco pigs…” Eames repeated flatly.

Robert made no move to correct him.

“You're telling me you started crying at a-”

“It wasn't about-

“-And you're also telling me Disco Pigs is not a movie about… disco pigs…”

“Well, if you look at it metaphorically-

Eames comically reached out one hand to cover Robert’s mouth and the other to cover his eyes.

“Shush, love, go back to sleep -you're not making any sense…” He muttered, half-chuckling.

Robert sighed and rolled over again, quietly pouting. Eames laughed and slung an arm around his warm back, lulling himself to sleep with the smell of Robert’s hair.


	2. star anise

* * *

chapter two: star anise

It's two in the afternoon and Eames is rubbing the side of his hip, wondering how on earth he ended up sleeping on the floor. Then after he sees the bruised skin he realizes he probably fell off the couch right next to him. He hears the distant flush of a toilet and footsteps drummed down the hall until he was faced with a mildly concerned Robert.

“Good…afternoon.” He replied stiffly, looking down at the man on the floor.

Eames gave him a forced smile, still sore from the roll off the edge.

“Are you…alright…?”

Robert knelt down and gingerly lifted the hem of Eames's shirt, examining the patch of blue edged in purple. He did not poke it, just lightly ran a finger over it but Eames still winced slightly. Must've been recent.

“Bad dream, darling?” Robert half-joked with an over exaggerated accent.

Eames laughed, shaking his head.

“No, actually it was pretty darn cool. I think I was fighting Batman…!”

Robert was about to say something and then he stopped himself. Then his eyebrows furrowed and he frowned a little.

“Are you making fun of me again…?” He complained.

“What- _what_ are you talking about?” Eames scoffed.

“Don't tell me you have some weird sort of telepathic powers I don't know about…”

Eames looked at him, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Robert, frankly, you've completely lost me…”

Robert glanced to the side and tucked back some of his hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Eames, I _just had_ a dream about fighting Batman too…”

He looked at the slightly embarrassed man for two seconds and burst out laughing.

“No bloody way! Seriously? But you were just in the-

“-I fell asleep on the toilet.” Robert muttered irritably.

Eames stopped and their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Eames was practically rolling on the floor, tears in his eyes.

“It's not _that_ funny...” Robert protested, interjecting between the spaces of Eames's laughter. “- and when I woke up I slipped and hit my head on the…stupid…toilet bowl…I must've been knocked out for half an hour…”

Robert sat there, stiffly waiting for Eames to quit “bloody” laughing and almost decided to just leave the room when he grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

“Aw, come on, sweetheart, don't get mad…hey, tell me, what was your dream like?”

Robert squeezed his eyes shut and tried to picture the last few scenes of the dream.

It came in flashes, quick bursts of yellow light, night scapes, the dark interior of an old building, cold rain. A tall, gloomy figure, must've been the dark knight himself, appearing like he always did, out of nowhere, then suddenly, he hears himself say-

_I think you need to **lighten** **up**._

And now there's the dancing, flickering of flames licking at his cloak, engulfed in fire, then came the screaming, the horrible, horrible screaming, and then falling, just falling, but it wasn't him that was falling, it was the Bat, the Bat was falling even though he was a bat and bats didn't fall, they were supposed to fly, but he didn't fly because before the bat, he was still, and tragically so, human.

The last thing on his mind was the smell of straw and the stale, musty air of an old barn. There was something covering his face, a sack of cloth, had he been kidnapped and narrowly escaped- no, no that wasn't right, it felt intentional, fitting, almost…natural. He'd put it on himself before he came here. A…mask.

_Scarecrow…?_

“I was Scarecrow… I set Batman on fire…” He spoke slowly, barely believing it himself.

Eames looked at him earnestly, chuckling.

“Wow, that must've been killer…! Ah, my dream wasn't that exciting I guess…”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, I was bald…” He began, ignoring Robert's quiet snickering. “-and I think Batman actually managed to slam me into the ground and made some of the weird little things around my mouth that looked kinda like toy bullets pop out…Jeez, I felt myself getting all muddled in the brain and I couldn't breathe properly, felt really shitty actually, like I was gonna puke…” Eames shook his head, still massaging his side.

“You must've fell off the couch right when he slammed you,”

“Bingo,” Eames said matter-of-factly. “-and it still hurts, damn it…”

“Who were you?” Robert asked, trying to distract him from his hip.

“Ah, what's his face… Dane…? No, that's not right. Bane. Yeah, that's it. Bane.”

“Just Bane?”

“Yeah, think so. Just Bane. Well, all the better, if it was long and complicated I might've forgotten it anyway,”

“Do you remember what you were trying to do?”

“Hmmm…” Eames mumbled, then chuckled, looking to the side. “-ah, I think I was some guy who was advocating for the rights of the working class and what not and obviously since I was filled with this teenage dystopian mumbo-jumbo, I also had to be an anarchist that had to blow up a few buildings and a football field to get my point across…”

Robert didn't say anything, just smiled. Then he glanced down and then looked at Eames thoughtfully.

“Can I say something?”

“Yeah, shoot,”

“You know, I just hope that we don't ever get pitted against each other. I never want to fight you, Eames…”

He laughed easily, sitting up so their shoulders touched.

“Don't be silly, love. It wouldn't be much of a fight anyway. I'd pin you down in, what, two and a half seconds?”

“And what's the half second for?”

“Oh, you know. I'd probably get distracted by your lovely blue eyes for about that long before I-

Suddenly Eames is furiously tickling Robert in the ribs until he surrenders and falls onto his back laughing, gently pinned onto the floor.

“-get you under me. Mmm, if we ever do get a fight sequence, I want it to be exactly like this.”

“And completely in costume? Don't be ridiculous…” Robert scoffs, still laughing.

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” Eames grinned. “-you think I’d fancy seeing blood on your pretty face?”

“Hmm. I suppose not,”

Eames smoothed a few strands of hair on the side of Robert's face.

“How’d you fall asleep on the toilet anyway?”

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, forehead furrowing.

“I was, well-

“-Oh, no. _No_. Don't tell me you were secretly working, Robert…” Eames griped with exasperation. “-come on, it's the middle of summer, nobody even _wants_ to be working, no, forget that, nobody _ever_ wants to be working-

“Eames, I wasn't working, I was _thinking_ about working and like all the work I'd have to do after summer is over- look there's a lot to ponder about, I'm taking over my father’s business, there's mountains of paperwork and don't even get me started on the-

“-And you fell asleep thinking about all that…? Aw, Robert…”

Eames mumbled, burying his face into Robert's hair, then took a whiff and drew back immediately.

“When's the last time you _showered_ , love…?”

“Well- hey, where are you taking me- ?!”

Eames grinned mischievously, pulling him along to the bathroom.

 

* * *

“Would you prefer to smell like-” Eames held a plastic bottle in either hand. “-Midnight Earthquake or… _Hawaiian Shark Attack_ …?”

“Stop making fun of my shampoo…” Robert muttered.

“Hawaiian Shark Attack, it is,”

Robert made an exasperated roll of his eyes and Eames laughed, squeezing a swirl of product onto his damp head. Eames had insisted on throwing in half a dozen of Robert's cousin’s bath bombs and now the bathtub looked like someone had dumped all their Halloween skittles along with a bucket of plastic cherry blossom petals and a few pounds of cheap glitter inside. There were so many scents mixed in that the smell transcended conventional thought and the closest thing Robert could think of that might have a similar smell would be unicorn farts.

So that was what he was gonna smell like after this, he thought, sulking quietly, sitting in the tub, knees peeking out of the rainbow bog. Hawaiian shark attacks and unicorn farts.

Eames was suddenly laughing uncontrollably.

Oh. He must have said it out loud. He felt a smile creeping on his lips and he stubbornly tried to press it down and finally he was laughing too.

Eames scooped a handful of lathered bubbles and smeared it over Robert's mouth and chin. Then he took more bubbles and sculpted it so Robert had fluffy white locks falling to his shoulders.

“What...are you...doing…” Robert sputtered, spitting out soapy water.

“Isn't it obvious, darling? I'm making you into Bubble Jesus,”

“Bubble Jesus…”

Robert kicked Eames out of the bathroom afterwards, as politely as he could, which involved throwing empty shampoo bottles at him and a toilet plunger, so that he could actually wash his hair. He felt the shower water hit his face and tried to remember the last time he had had so much fun taking a bath. He hadn't taken a bath since he was seven. That was back when his father- no, he told himself not to think about it. Just concentrate on the hot water slapping your skin. Just concentrate on how happy you feel right now.

He smiled to himself. He would never have imagined he would meet someone like Eames in his life, let alone fall hopelessly in love with him. It was a strange stroke of good fortune. He wondered how long it would last.

By the time he had wrapped a towel on his waist and stepped into the bedroom, Eames was lying on the bed, asleep. He had not changed his clothes and his socks were still on. It was almost comical.

Robert turned away from him to wring the towel over his hair one more time when two arms encircled his narrow waist and suddenly yanked him backwards into the bed and he yelled in surprise, falling into the bouncy mattress, butt naked except for the towel on his head.

The back of his head hits something hard and Eames gives a shout when he gets a mouthful of damp hair and a bonk on the jaw. Robert smirks even as he's wincing from the impact.

“My father always said I had an iron head,”

Eames chuckled.

“Well, then darling, you're lucky I have a diamond jaw to match it.”

“My hair's still wet,” Robert pointed out.

“I know. And I don't care,” Eames grinned, pressing his face into Robert's hair again, breathing in the scent with approval.

“At least let me get some clothes on,”

“Have you never slept with nothing on? It's feels downright fantastic…”

“Really?”

“One of the best feelings in the world,” Eames assured him.

“Yeah, and I bet when a spider crawls up my bare ass and dies, it will feel downright orgasmic- I'm going to get myself some underwear, Eames…”

He laughed as he watched Robert walk over to the dark oak wardrobe on the opposite side of the room and peruse over a wide selection of undergarments. When he finally settled on simple grey boxers, Eames snickered as Robert haphazardly tried to balance on one leg to slip on the underwear. He turned to glare at the sniggering man, muttering that sitting in the bath for so long messed up the strength in his knees.

“Next time you should choose the turquoise coloured pair with the pink salmon pattern. You know, the one that's sewn with gold thread?”

“Shut up.”

Robert sank down on the bed and sighed as he fell back onto the thick white blankets. The sheets smelled fresh and Eames not so much but love had a curious way of forgiving many things. He turns to face him and Eames sighs too, tracing the line of his lower lip with his finger.

“You worry too much, darling,” He murmured, eyes glowing with concern.

“You should be grateful for my worrying,” Robert scoffed. “-chances are it led me to you,”

Eames smiled.

“Maybe you're right,”

“And take off some of your clothes. You're making me feel underdressed…”

He laughed as he peeled off his shirt and trousers and slid back down to join Robert under the covers.

“Are we going to sleep all day? Aren't you feeling hungry yet…?”

“Mmm, I am feeling hungry…but it doesn't feel good to do it on a full stomach,” Robert smirked, curling a warm and slightly wet leg over Eames and pressing a slow, sensual kiss at the base of his throat.

“So…” Robert breathed, dragging his tongue over the curve of his upper lip. “-you ready?”

And he laughs when Eames doesn't answer and rolls him onto his back and slides those grey boxers back down to his ankles, and as Robert feels his warm hands running through his hair still strewn with droplets, he forgets, at least for a second, to worry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I feel like the bathtub scene might have been a little bit too OOC but like I was too lazy to take it out or change it. Oh, well, it's crack so it's ok I guess.


	3. cayenne pepper

chapter three: cayenne pepper

Robert jolts straight up in the dark room, body rigid with sweat, breath frantic. He's gasping, lungs on fire and he runs his half-asleep hands as carefully as he can over his throat stippled with goosebumps, moves lower to check his jugular, thumbing the delicate, slightly moist skin.

For a terrible moment, he thinks it's blood. Then he swipes some and sniffs it, realizing, with relief, it's just sweat.

Then he realizes there was never much blood anyway. The pen, maybe the pen was still inside.

It's not there. Robert feels his fingers trying to grasp at the foreign object that had been lodged in his throat but it's not there, it's not there. There isn't even a hole, a circular gash when he may or may have not ripped out the pen. He can't seem to remember. It's all so confused and his head is spinning, his eyesight going all spotty.

Speak. He tries to, but his vocal cords seem to have gone slack, refusing to even vibrate to a whisper. He tries clearing his throat and the familiar guttural noise, barely surfacing provides him with slight security.

He tries to speak again and this time, his voice breaks as he does, doesn't even try to say words, just making sounds to make sure he still can. A single syllable. But his brain is making him repeat it over and over again until he can recognize the word, feel a connection towards it.

“...eames…” He chokes out. Still doesn't recognize it.

He hears footsteps shuffling that seem to speed up upon hearing his voice.

“Eames…” He breathes.

His eyesight clears as he steadies his breath and like the drawing of a heavy curtain, bit by bit he remembers and then suddenly all at once, like sunlight flooding in and pooling over the entire space.

The man enters the room, setting down a glass of water by the nightstand, flicking on the lamp. Robert shields his eyes but from the gaps between his fingers he can see him, and it really is Eames. He looks over him with concern and sinks down onto the bed, places his hands, warm, they always were, Robert thinks curiously, over his cold, sweat streaked shoulders. Steadies him.

“Robert, love, this time I really think it was a bad dream…”

“She stabbed me.” Robert's voice quivered, almost a hollow whisper. “-in the throat, Eames, I felt it, I _felt_ it, but there was no blood…I couldn't _speak_ …”

“Hey. _Hey_. She's gone now. She's not going to hurt you. Robert, you're here. Safe. With me.”

Robert nodded stiffly, still shaken from the aftershocks of nightmares. And following the aftershock, there was always the stubbornness, no, the fear of falling back asleep and having the nightmare continue right where it left off.

“I don't want to go back to sleep. I'm not even that tired anyway. Eames… where were you?”

Eames sighed, looking at him sympathetically.

“I had a dream too, before I woke up. Couldn't sleep after that, thought I'd get myself a glass of water, drown it all down. Got one for you too,” He said, gesturing to the counter.

Robert ignores the glass of water.

“What’d you dream about?”

Eames snorts, shaking his head. Ran a hand through his hair.

“I was inside a plane-

“-Me too…!” Robert cut in, then looked a little apologetic, but Eames shook his head to say it was alright.

“Some guy asks me “Have we started the fire?” and honestly, I don't even know what the heck he's talking about but I answer “Yes! The fire rises!” like I'm in some kind of movie where I…”

He kept on rubbing his head.

Robert sighed, looking at him knowingly.

“Were you _bald_ again…?”

Eames raised his eyebrows and stopped, the realization finally dawning on him.

“Yeah. Now that I think about it, I was bald…again…”

“It was Bane again, wasn't it?” Robert affirmed, chuckling. “-you know, maybe you have some kind of connection with the character you don't really know about…”

Eames waved away that thought and looked at Robert.

“Do you remember who stabbed you?”

“Uh…She was an actress I think, what's her name… Rachel McAdams?”

“Rachel McAdams…?” Eames muttered, not recognizing the name at all.

Then his eyes lit up.

“ _Oh_. You mean Regina George…!”

Robert just looked at him blankly.

“ _Who_ …?”

 


End file.
